cowboy like me

Our eyes were devices we could use to switch between worlds we had to call home because it was the only world others could see and worlds where nobody thought we stayed. Deception was the one language we could never fail to be fluent in and although we believed in kindness, we never gave it to ourselves. Happiness proved to be a mirage for though we tried, it was never ours to be owned: only to be stolen; for it was in the very search of peace that we had crumbled. We had swam through perilous waters and it somehow managed to drain every bit of goodness to ourselves from us. We were heartbreakers, yes, but the first heart we ever broke was our own. And though we tried to tell ourselves those beautiful lies of blind hope, we failed. Was life even worth living after going through those raging seas?

But you see, lying was an art we had learnt to perfect through practice. Though we could never lie to ourselves and tell us that we deserved love, we had lied to everything about our life and cursed it with an identity under which nobody could think of us as good. We were never born villains, we chose to become one so that the hopelessness in our souls felt like it belonged in our body. However, our mastery allowed us to distinguish between the images of a person with such ease. We could peer through the opaquest of hearts and manage to find just one hint of fragility. We could hunt for buried sins in eyes veiled with innocence.
Maybe that’s why we could never accept the bitter truth: that though we could never love ourselves we were capable of loving each other.

We wanted ‘us’ to be a lie as much as possible, but it was always there. And no, there was no rapid heartbeat or a innocent streak of red over my cheeks when I was first saw you. But something in the way you looked at me felt like you had entered right into that world where nobody thought I stayed. That world had emotions and you felt like a gentle touch of comfort which was only provided by home. You see, we were the bad guys in everybody else’s eyes but we couldn’t convince ourselves to be so in each other’s. Because all they saw was what we showed them but we had managed to peer right through that. We were from the same flesh and bone, and fought the same battles. We had vowed to never love again, for we did not carry the strength to let our scars breathe.
Suffocation was the coping mechanism we had enforced upon us since now more than a decade. Because though we deceived and cheated and robbed trusting eyes blind, we were weak.

Behind those fishnet hats and bold countenances was damage buried too deep to be felt. But something about you made me question everything I believed. You showed me that maybe I could show myself a mere glimpse of kindness.
Maybe, I did have the potential to truly call happiness my own.

But ultimately, the darkness had to take over the light. It was not your fault, it was just how we had fashioned ourselves. The darkness though in abundance may not be the strongest, and the light though in fractions can prove to be the more powerful. But we chose to embody darkness as the mightier, stronger entity. It was where we felt we belonged. We were bandits, and we loved our lies a little bit more. But you were the home I always wanted to call mine but never could. You were the cause of my fires and the only one who could extinguish them too. You were my only constant I could truly rely on and no, I never deserved you. We were heartbreakers, but in our efforts to go about the way we do, we ended up mending each other. And I feel that rush. The rock-hard handles of rusty gates have melted and every emotion has swung open and is rushing to reunite with the body where it is meant to reside in. It is not frozen anymore and is pulsing in my blood. You showed me the way to love myself and that pain and happiness are emotions which thought distinct in nature, come together.
Maybe, happiness could now finally be felt.


Inspired from the song ‘cowboy like me’ by Taylor Swift

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts or drop in any suggestions ❤

You can contact me here and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

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@theniharikadiaries

Her Eyes Never Failed To Fool

Oh, babe, I know how much you loved to play hide and seek where you stole my heart and everything I could call mine.
And you always made me the seeker, dooming me to find myself in your vague reflection and you, the hider – never revealing your true self beneath those pearl eyes and teal stockings.
But the games were fun until that day when you took me to the lakes for one final round of hide and seek and stole my breath and strangled me in your ocean and left me to drown.

I never got to seek you again.


Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts or drop in any suggestions ❤
You can contact me here and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl on Medium

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@theniharikadiaries

Glass Leaves

book rose thing

Photo Credits – Shutterstock

I’m tired,
My spine stays relaxed as I shut my eyes and disconnect
From the commotion of reality,
Which has all of a sudden shushed. 

But my mind is louder than it has ever been before,
Though the night doesn’t make a single twitch,
The voices in my head are draining me,
And my mind of its energy.

I turn to the other side.
My eyes are shut and I can see nothing,
I fall into a vision of an unknown delusion,
As my mind loses its illusion of control over Me.
The voices now seem to be shrieking underwater,
I can hear someone else speak.

I turn to the other side to see who is breathing
Such a familiar breath and I see you.
The energy in being drained by energy
is coursing through my blood,
As I succumb to the nocturnal desires.
I see you and only you,
and nothing’s more peaceful than that as of now.

My nerves put their best efforts
to rationalize this state,
But they’re failing to make my mind function again.
I’m lost in the vast universe you hold within the realm of your eyes,
My throat aches for words to utter,
But I fail in my every try.
I’m silent.

I then hold you,
I can see your hands in mine,
But I cannot feel them.
I know something is wrong.

I blink.
I can’t see you anymore,
You’ve disappeared into the void I was staring.
And melted into reality.
As I turn to see but a blurred scenery,
While the slumber crawls into the silent abyss.

It seems that the true works of art,
Are only birthed by silence.
The silence of the soul,
Or the desire to be silent
and to quiet the insanity of the demons in your mind,
Or the silence asked of you,
When the world suffocates your voice,
And asks you to crouch down.
But we rise up with our art anyhow.

And the silence which is capable of birthing poems,
the night is ringing today.
The painting in the sky’s canvas,
Is filling up the pages in a poet’s hut somewhere.

And while our love has frozen
Into an epitome of eternal autumn,
And the future in our pages
Has withered away into hallucinations,
I won’t lie to myself and let the nights drive me paranoid,
I will find that deserted quill,
And rewrite my story.


Hey Guys! I wrote this some days back and the ending today, so it feels a little abrupt or rushed to me? I don’t know, I’m really looking forward to your thoughts on this one in the comment box. So I thought of the title ‘Glass Leaves’ as I refer to that phase as ‘Autumn’, and the leaves which have withered, that is the pages, which now hurt like glass? I don’t know, let me know if you like the title as I’m trying to come up with better titles for what I write. I would certainly not consider this a great piece, and I hope someone actually reads it fully. 

I hope you’re all well and safe. Please take care and my love and blessings to you all.

You can contact me here.
Thank you for reading!
Suggestions welcome!
@theniharikadiaries

That World

I wanted to write a poem about hope,
To conjure brightness and mirror them in my words,
To imbibe a optimistic energy in your soul.
So I hoped for hope,
But I could not have hope
and/or hope,
I too don’t know.

I wrote down ideas,
Pondered on poetic forms and devices,
I am told
Use ‘sun’ for happiness,
‘Breeze’ for peace,
Blooming vibrant flower beds,
For growth and positivity.

And I tried,
But words deemed me to be doomed again,
What will I write today?
I thought to myself,
As the ceiling fan stirred the abandoned dust,
What passionate flame shall ignite,
The pulchritude in my words?

And then it hit me and I realized,
I was writing with a blindfold on my soul,
There will be days when I struggle,
But isn’t it the struggle that makes us listen,
What our soul has been trying to say all this while?

Why was I waiting for the words to strike me?
I don’t want to do that.
I do not want the words to find me,
For then I’ll miss out on the joy of the struggle,
After all,
What’s the fun of hide and seek when you’re the one waiting to be found?

And I want to trip over surging waters,
And drown in the endless sky,
I want to question my so-called comfort zone,
And break the norms of imagination.

I want to freely explore the galaxies beyond,
And pluck broken stars to drip them in honey,
And brew rhapsodic stardust.
I want to break the barriers of my mind,
So that I can see the depth of my soul.
I want to capture the fragrance of the first rains,
And store it in a perfume bottle like century-old wine,

Which will be my getaway,
When my soul seeks tranquil air again.
My own personal drug to remind me of satisfaction,
When life overwhelms me with its clever deceits,
And leaves my lungs dried and desiccated.
And I’ll be drained of purpose.

I will inhale the alcoholic bliss then,
And remember how true peace felt like. 
And as the petrichor slowly takes over my body,
Maybe I’ll write a verse or two,
And escape into that world with you.


Thank you for reading!
Open to all suggestions in the comment section!
I hope you’re all well and safe 🙂

Even The Healthy Are Sick

Coorna

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

It’s 6:30 in the evening and I am sitting here, in dire lack of inspiration, just trying to write something, anything, even nothing would be satisfying now in these times. It’s terrifying, how an incurable (as of now) virus has shipwrecked every soul breathing. Though I am grateful that all my friends, my family, and every person near and dear to me are blessed and safe, these psychological scars bleed for love and affection, as we self-isolate and stay apart.

Millions of people have been affected by this misfortune, and I deeply hope they heal. However, it is no new statement to say that this virus has affected all physically healthy and blessed as well. We all are emotionally ill, whether you know it or not. I hear them refer to the termed “COVID-19 cases” as “the sick”. But the truth is, that we all are. And the whole world is.

   Every single one in the seven billion of the earth has been affected emotionally.

COVID-19 … It’s in the news, in articles, it’s in every conservation, every small and big talk; if big talk really is a term. I decided to not regularly watch the news, for I found it unnecessary for me to bother me with negativity on a regular basis. I refused to be greatly bothered. I get my updates only through my parents, or if I check them once in a blue moon. But the number of people who have been affected by the virus seems to grow by the day and it has crawled into the city where I live like a silent hurricane and I now check the news more often.

We all are aware of the safety guidelines. But what has affected every single one of us the most is the social-distancing. And whether you’re an introvert, extrovert, ambivert — we all do not like this. The isolation is tough. Times are unpredictable and there is no vision of what lies ahead. It must be remembered that this isolation is crucial and though it is tough, do not give up and do not take the risk.

The virus is not seeking a particular religion, color, sex or ethnicity to attack. It has affected the world as a whole. Hence right now, we all have to stand together as one community, irrespective of our differences. There is a need to stand mentally together.

We cannot refuse to accept that we do feel more negative emotions now. We’re more frustrated than usual if something doesn’t work out as hoped, our routines are fluctuating which affect our energy and interest in working, in spite of it being your passion. We may even project our psychological stress onto our loved ones and get involved in fights, on even the tiniest and insignificant things. We all have been emotionally affected by the virus.

Though COVID-19 is a biological disease related to our physical health, it doesn’t mean our mental well-being is not important. It is as important as our physical well-being. Do not let yourselves shatter from the fear. We are not alone, abandoned or lonely. We all are together. And just because we are physically apart from our loved ones doesn’t mean our hearts are apart. Call them, send them a message, let them know you’re grateful. Talk, not about the virus. Talk so they know that there you are with them and so they forget about the virus’ terrors for some time.

We cannot control negative emotions. They’re gonna be there. They are there. And there’s nothing you can do to make them vanish. But you can always prevent those emotions from controlling you. These scars are going to affect us directly or indirectly, and that is inevitable. The only thing we can do is confront these scars. Confront negative emotions. Because only in that way can we realize the importance of strength, gratefulness, and hope in this battle.

Yes, it is frightening. We are afraid, we all are. And that is completely okay and normal. Breaking the preventive method of isolation just because it is tough, is not worth it and is wrong because social distancing and self-isolation are most effective for the prevention of the virus spreading. But taking care of yourself, not only by washing your hands but by engaging yourself in activities that bring you positive vibes is equally important.

I barely had any knowledge about cooking. I did help around, but I had no major contribution. But during this quarantine I did more, as I learnt more. I finally tried out that chocolate cake recipe I always wanted to! It turned out quite well! Mom helped, though. So right now I’m trying to learn some basic cooking, and I deeply hope to make a proper meal one day without assistance. Music heals me in unimaginable and unexpected ways, so I usually listen to music while doing my homework, as it motivates me to not stop out of boredom.

I read novels like ‘False Impression’ and ‘Everything is F*cked’, and ‘The Merchant of Venice’ is next on the list. I am not able to write as I usually do, but I am trying to do my best to continue and write anything, though it may not be worth reading; and then waiting for the inspiration to strike while I write my best nothing. I have chosen to self-reflect and have resolved to work on myself and become a better and mature thinker.

What I’m saying is soothe your soul with whatever works for you the best and do not confuse physical barriers to be emotional ones. If you’re feeling low or disturbed, you can always talk to your loved ones about it, they’ll understand. We all are under the same cloud right now. And we all can get through this. If you can, stay grateful and strong. It will be alright. Please try not to let fear get the better of you.


Do not let your psychological scars bleed you of hope.


Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe and blessed.

Originally published on Medium through ACorneredGurl. Read here

broken But beautiful

BBB final i guess

Photo Credits – Collosal

                         As we sip our daily coffee, the warm eclair of bitter bliss dances down our hoarse throats of incomplete sleep and periodical insomnia, our eyes are half sunken into our evanescent thoughts fading in and out, us barely awake. We are still dreaming, perhaps this coffee shall render me conscious and out of this REM of my brain cells. But why, aren’t dreams to be turned to reality? The morning chirper squeaks her little tell-tale through the verandah of my dusty apartment. Does she have something to say, perhaps a debt to be paid? A belief which exists narrates such that everything, every moment, every person you meet, every somebody and nobody has a particular purpose in your life. Seeing rebirth and reincarnation as a ‘business of the unseen dynasties’, our immortal souls all owe some karmic duty to someone and the people we meet are either indebted to us or vice versa due to certain dues in our previous births, and the people with which the ‘transactions’ are then complete, leave us. Just simply out of our lives. That soul in that someone’s body is officially done with us, in all cosmic, karmic, witchy-voodoo aspects. Every human connection can be explained thus and provides our inquisitive minds an insight too provoking to be neglected in the face of the boundless knowledge of the vast universe we are unaware of.

But I yet wonder, if someone is ‘done’ with us, the transaction is completed then why is that emotion not the same for me as it was for you, if that certain century-long debt is ultimately paid? If you left me as you got your end of the bargain, why isn’t the same held for me? Why do I still think about you if our bond has inevitably returned to cosmic dust just like my now shipwrecked soul and I am finally free of some ‘debt’? Ironic how our relation was literally some business game to you and to me a journey where we don’t owe each other feelings, but feel out of our own will, love without reasons. But you left as you met someone more business material and me indebted to this agony you’ve overthrown me with as collateral. This coffee will give sleepless nights nevertheless, the birds will screech disturbingly as they electrocute my flesh and bones with the taser of their unbound ecstasy, my ears ring. I’m stuck in this aura of heightened sounds and fluctuating migraines and nothing can change the fact that my very conscience has broken into invisible shadows and bleeding flashbacks.

But I have hope, like that of an innocent child. Not that I want my life to chime like the bell of that ice-cream truck entering into our hustling streets but maybe I just want the calm breeze to bring my mind some peace too, and not annoyance and a tingling itch to my scarred skin. Some purpose. Some meaning. I’m tired of suffocation. Because I will always be indebted to me for all excursions of my eternal soul, and I owe me life, dance, music, food, art, I owe me joy. I owe me love. And happiness is a choice which I shall choose for myself, by myself, through myself. I wanna fall in love with myself and for that I must accept myself the way I am, however I am. Why should I fall into this never-ending pit of self-hatred? I think I owe me love, I think I owe my scars some air, I don’t want to conceal them anymore, they deserve oxygen. I deserve love and I am capable of it, because I am a stronger being after your every pain you try to destruct me with. And I can stand on my feet with bleeding ankles and smile too. I can have a thousand reasons to cry and yet not cry and stay happy. It is all my choice. I can accept my wounds, however they are, I choose the pain to build my self-esteem, and not tear it down.

I’m broken but beautiful.


Hey Guys! So I posted something in this style again and I can’t help denying that I’m finding writing prose more fun than poems. Of course, I’ve kept my resolution, I’m writing more now that I’m on holiday, my examinations have ended! Also, with the Corona Virus pandemic, I’ve quarantined myself with more activities. Please take care of yourself, wash your hands with soap frequently and maintain social distancing. For my extrovert readers, it’s okay, you can get through this. And please do not take the risk of going out as much as possible. There are a bunch of stuff you can do, thanks to the Internet and its billion provisions, you can read a bunch of books, watch movies you’ve always wanted to. Call up your friends and family, keep your hearts close in spite of these necessary physical distances. Spend this solitude as satisfyingly as possible and try to enjoy this quarantine as much as possible.

So returning to the post, that belief does exist and I have not made it up and is known as ‘Runanubhanda’, according to Vedic Astrology, and is an existing physical as well as emotional bondage with our contemporaries. It can help us understand every encounter that happens in our lives with people, from friends to enemies. It reasons ever suffering we encounter in life with a ready made answer in the unfolding of the past life debts, both positive and negative, from our past.

The latter that follows just has one underlying message – you cannot control what you feel. Believe me. You can only accept them and accordingly take an appropriate decision. You cannot change your feelings, numb or suppress them, you can only affect the way you go about your feelings, how you deal with it. It’s okay if you weren’t okay. It’s okay to feel angry, hurt or sad. It’s okay and you do not have to beat yourself up for it. You’re only human, you learn and you grow. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are capable of love and it begins from you yourself. There’s a unique beauty in self-love and it’s never too late to fall in love with yourself. You will always be with you in this journey of life. There’s beauty in your scars, your pain, the hurt and you can heal and you will heal. You deserve more than painful love. Life is moving and the healthiest thing for your heart is to move with it.

Just believe in yourself. You’re worth having hope, no matter what💕


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@theniharikadiaries

When The Heavens Whispered

heaven whispers

Photo Credits – Pinterest

It rained,
The pink of the flowers melted into a mystical mauve of matte,
As the skies spilled their tales into a cascade of condensated love,
The soil gained a unique freshness and sprayed the air with the calmness of a mended soul,
And the edges of the leaves curved concave,
As the nectar of the sapphire sky slept unto the moss green bed,
And they shone emerald green just like your eyes,
Only that I just saw the exquisite beauty of the emerald,
And never saw your true stone-self.

I feel the beguiling beads drop,
From the heavenly realm of jewels on my bruised skin,
It penetrated my heart when those beads quenched my thirst as they fell unto my lips,
The maple syrup of the sky,
Now reminding me of the maple of your mouth on my dry lips,
And the way it tasted,
As it gushed gradually down my throat and my tongue craved more,
Because your caressing hands on my shoulder took the weight of the world off them.
I sighed with satisfaction while this alluring peace my soul absorbed,
Like waffles absorb maple syrup.

But who knew that your nectar would drench me and slowly drip my self-esteem,
But then again, I was blithely unaware,
That your maple was poison in guise of the sweet bliss of your lips,
Breaking the waffle of my heart into shattered crumbles.

I drown myself in the tranquility of this secluded paradise,
I let the skies bleed purple shades of hidden bruises,
They blend into the amber of the threshold of the bijou empire,
It’s not raining anymore.

My lungs came to savour the breath of freedom,
I let the streams of the translucent skies dilute the colors of my tainted galaxy,
I ingested the shattered showers,
Because I was tired of my own tears quenching my thirst.

Maybe the soil will absorb the peace,
And the prying eyes will once again self-hydrate,
But my throat is nauseous of the taste of my lacrimal salts,
I won’t let heartbleed be my life’s sole flavour.

I’ll be a warrior and I’ll embrace my scars,
With heartbreak as my healing balm,
I won’t be a prisoner of your love,
I’ll let the rains take my misery.


Originally posted on Medium via ACorneredGurl, you can check it out here!

‘Ello Guys! Yes, I know, I’ve been posting after a really long time. Like a really, really long time but my final terminal examinations are in progress and have kept me busy. My last paper’s on 27th February and I promise to seriously dedicate myself to this blog since that day, plus my holidays will start from then therefore will have plenty of time to surprise you and keep you tuned! I seriously apologize for the inconsistency.


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Suggestions welcome!

Thank you for reading!

@theniharikadiaries

When Reality Hits

Heart of the Matter.

Photo Credits – Pinterest

It killed me.
Knowing that I couldn’t live without you and you were the air entering my lungs in every moment. The sweet nectar in our love we tasted under the oak trees at nightfall before we walked in the same direction, hearts intertwined and the hands interlocked perfectly like the perfect key to a lock, slowly turned into venom, consuming each nerve with a spiralling outrage. I wrote my pain unto chapped sheets which bent peculiarly every time its friction acted against the rustling tip, and I mixed that ink with the ashes of the letters you wrote to me which I burnt. No, my apologies, the heartfelt letters I wrote to you which you sent back because you can’t deal with my darkest demons, because you have your own, while I thought love was all about fighting against your demons together and falling in love with each other’s flaws, fears, insecurities. You stamped over my soul like a mere insect in your ravishing realm of creatures you converse with, make them feel important, and you make them see you as their hope. But unluckily, the only hope, ah, so blind. And then you see another marvellous creature. The list adds on. A lifetime of warmth burned into the coldness of the air as you walked away and every sound intensified but nothing struck my brain as hard as the sound of your shoes rhythmically hitting against the stone pavement and my heart beating along that bleeding rhapsody.

And in the series of irascible moods and uncontrollable rage, irregular eating habits and countless nights of insomnia that followed, I popped up a few pills and drugged me with some delusional reliefs through sleep, because I dreamt only of you and at times, us. As it gave my heart peace knowing that maybe I will once again get to bathe in the comfort and swoon in the brisk energetic fires of our passionate love with you as my soulmate forever and even now I can never think any wrong of you at all because I believe you just wanted your mind and nerves a different air to endure for sometime and you wanted to protect me since you love me. Until I saw that you replaced me like a mere utility. Not that I don’t dream or think of you anymore, just my eyes bleed streams of broken hopes as the agony in my heart consumes my every light, as I dream of how much I want to hate you and all I can do is hate. And there I went down with the stupid theories you made me feed upon but you were the one savoring the delicious feast in it, that you only hate me because you love me. The crazy part? I believed it. Shit.

Been more than months, and I have figured out the reason for my blind belief in that. I was an already broken soul, who believed another such soul would repair me. And now, I realize, nobody has a mended heart. It’s just either someone is more broken or less broken but never completely healed, because it just doesn’t ever happen. I am realizing I am the carpenter of my own mind and I can choose how to react to pain and pick the battles I wanna willingly fight in. Pain is inevitable, as I implore myself, look into the eyes of my deepest demons lurking around the unknown parts of my shadows I was unaware existed, and I deal the way I hoped from someone else. I have decided to fall in love with my insecurities, my parched throat, the drooping of my eyes, my overfilled fridge; my empty voids and torn lips. I’m embracing my scars, and it’s not easy. It’s a simple choice, just not an easy one. But when the sun seems to set and rise according to your mood, it’s always ink black, because you made me drown into the despair of such nothingness that I didn’t even bother to raise my head above the looming anguish of the wrathful waters of worthlessness which you forcefully wrecked my mind into, to see the sun at all. But once you make the choice of that struggle of embracing your scars and walking ahead, you learn to take responsibility for everything in your life; not being at fault for everything, but taking responsibility for it, and you stoopingly fall into such a comfortingly pricking cascade of self-love, no matter how long the fall; because there is always the same destination to it, love. And all of a sudden I’m thinking: ever fallen in love with yourself so much that had all those feelings of love/hate you had for that grim devil under the face of a gentleman just softly melt away?
It hits me.


Okay, so this is the first time I tried to experiment with words in a non-poem way, and I guess it worked out? Let me know in the comments whether you liked this way of writing I tried to experience with and should I post more such works. Also, this is my first post in the New Year 2020 and hence wanted to do something new😊 Other than that, I will indeed try harder to post more consistently and I hope that you guys follow, comment and share!

Suggestions welcome!

Thank you for reading!

@theniharikadiaries

The Bloodbath of Our Love

f7d887b4ed5a6ba6c4a9b10c396c14861

Photo Credits – Pinterest

Our silence is more of a distraction than our love,
My longing for you drains the pure blood from my veins,
As I stuff my mouth with
The letters you wrote me,
Trying to quench my thirst
With the dried ink,
But choke on the yellow pages instead.
Want to feel your love through these words,
But your passionate words,
Now feel like venom.

Intoxication.
Suffocated air.
Lacrimal streams,
Flowing red in despair.
Blood boiling.
Blur transition,
From lover to bloodsucking beast,
As the poison,
Consumes every corner of the body you deprive.

Stone-hearted love,
Freezing fingers,
Heightened senses,
A deadly desire.
A vicious vampire under a hood,
Looks above the opaque shadows,
Eyes widening,
I’ve slumbered too much.

Nerves embolden emerald green,
Now I see clearly,
I desire the blood of your body,
Intoxicated by our love.

I pounce on you,
A merciless carnivore,
I suck the sweet nectar,
From your bleeding neck.

Lips luminous red,
An ever-growing hunger,
Satisfied for the time being,
My throat is now not parched anymore,
My thirst for you is quenched.
As I slice your throat and make you bleed,
The way you slit my brain,
Into a deluded madness.

I lick my lips,
Only to fulfill my thirst.
Maybe when I’ll wake up tomorrow,
I will wail my pain into demonic lakes,
But if this little adventure frightens you, my holy love,
You will suffer worse,
For these weren’t your last breaths,
As I’ve condemned you,
To a fate worse than death,
For now you are gonna join,
My human hunting,
Embrace your being,
Of a nocturnal beast,
Thriving on mortal blood.
As we dive into utter insanity,
The deadly kiss,
Of immortality.


‘Ello guys! First of all, this is completely my imagination and doesn’t mean to demean any beliefs. So, this poem is about a human who is driven into such insanity by a toxic lover and misses him so much, that she tries to give herself hope by trying to feel the truth in the words of his handwritten letters by stuffing her mouth with them. However, this lover being toxic, had mixed poison into the ink, which makes her choke on the pages. Technically, she should have died, however the goodness in her heart and her innocence prevents her death and gives her a chance to re-start. She is now reborn a vampire and is rid of the delusion that this lover was truly in love with her. However, she is in transition and has a choice. To trigger vampirism, she must feed and if she doesn’t, she would die a human. She decides to accept immortality and kill the toxic lover to trigger this power. However, deep down she is well aware that simply seeking revenge won’t make her any different than the evil lover. She would be as evil as him. Hence, she gives him a second chance by cursing him with vampirism.

What I intend to portray is that while vampirism is seen as a curse, it is a blessing for some. While the toxic lover gets stuck with guilt, as for her, she finally starts to see clearly.  The aftermath of the poem has three different paths. One, that the lover chooses not to trigger the vampirism out of guilt, other, that the lover chooses to take his brutality to another level by replacing his activity of breaking hearts with removing them out of people, and the last one, though a bit hazy, is that he unknowingly triggers it and spends his eternal life seeking redemption. Either way, what I intend to say is that we always have a choice, and happiness is a choice.

You can either be stuck in the past and not find peace, or accept its pain and not let it define you.

Everyone has their own perspective and belief, and you must always remember that they are unique and your own no matter how unpopular or unaccepted. I speak of vampires as if they do exist. And they do, however the way they’re represented in movies and shows are only for entertainment purposes. I wrote this poem having completed The Originals, and I was so deeply immersed in that thrill, that I had to write this one.

To know about how actually vampires live in real life, read here, which is an interview with a real-life vampire, and this, to know about their lifestyle, and a study of the vampires in New Orleans. 

And also, one more thing that I intend to convey through this poem is that as much great it is to give a person a second chance, it is most essential to give yourself a chance, and to believe that no matter how much painful it is now, no matter how tough this situation is, something good always lies ahead, no matter how far away the distance from it. You just need to give yourself a chance and believe.


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Happy Birthday, Papa.

Dear Papa,

No matter how long we talk over the phone none of it compares to the time spent together when you’re here. Birthdays. Some are excited, some are not. Some have gigantic parties, some make wee celebrations with cake at the most. But we’re simple, middle-class Sindhis. Give us sai-bhaji with chawal along with teriyal patata and papad and we’ll call it a night. You are everything, Papa. You’re the one who taught me what life truly means. You never gave up on me and never will. You’re a wonderful father, never ceasing your endless support and encouragement.

You always ask me, “आपको मेरी सबसे ज़्यादा क्या बात अच्छी लगती है?” (What do you like the most about me?) and I present you a vaguer answer every time the question asked. Well, Papa, truth be told, whenever I see you, be it as a son, a husband, a friend, a father, a brother, a son-in-law, an uncle or even a human being, what’s not to like? You are perfect from every perspective. Even your flaws are so gracefully elegant. You’re it, Papa. You’re my inspiration. My heart. My soul. My poetry. My pani-puri.

Thank you for taking care of us and bearing with us and taking time out for everyone.

And I apologise for every mistake I’ve made and sorry in advance if I continue to do so? Because let’s just face it, what do I know about the ‘real world’? But you’re my world and you’re very real. And I know you’ll always guide me, support me, and be by my side and give me space when I need it.

I rummaged through all the exquisite words in the dictionary known to exist but could not find the perfect way to describe you. I mean, how do you a describe a person who so easily takes all your troubles away with just the spark in their eyes? I say it’s magic. There’s something magical about you but I cannot put my finger on it. Maybe it’s just you, from your dyed hair to your bubbly laugh, it’s magical indeed.

You’ve always taken care of me, walked by my side, showed me the light and I vow to do the same for you and Ma. I love you💕. You’re the paper to my pen. Happy birthday to such a surreal and beautiful soul.

Come soon.

Your loving daughters,
Simran and Niharika❤.